


Damascus

by sciencefictioness



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angsty Cyborg Feels, M/M, Not New Material, Post-Recall, Pre-Fall of Overwatch, Repost From Another Account, Reunions, This Is An Edit, don't get too excited
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-23
Updated: 2017-10-23
Packaged: 2019-01-21 21:26:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12466252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sciencefictioness/pseuds/sciencefictioness
Summary: Jesse couldn’t move.  He was frozen in place, rain already soaking through his clothes, pouring down off the brim of his hat.  The lightning was vicious.  Violent, and bright.He still couldn’t take his eyes of the green glow of Genji’s visor.  Memorizing the lines of it, committing every sharp edge and ethereal light and shining surface to his mind.  Jesse wanted to trace it with his fingers, as he had so many times before.As he had traced Genji’s face once before.As he’d traced the heat of his throat, down his collarbones, until it joined the black artificial skin that spread out beneath his armor in so many places.  As he’d traced every bit of Genji.  Pale muscle, and silvery metal, and the soft synthetic flesh that ran between where his own ran out.  Followed his fingers with his mouth, because no matter what it was made of, all of it was Genji.All of him was beautiful, even if he couldn’t see it.Eyes enhanced with cybernetics, vision made superhuman with his visor, and still Genji was blind.If only in the mirror.





	Damascus

**Author's Note:**

> Damascus steel is created by taking several different types of steel and forging them together in a single blade, resulting in a wavy pattern in the metal. It always makes me think of Genji, and how he's made up of so many different parts, both physically and emotionally. 
> 
> This is not a new work, as many of you know, but a repost of part of a previous work from a different account. I wrote it fairly early in my foray into the Overwatch fandom, and retrospectively was not very happy with my characterization, specifically of Jesse, as well as some implications about Gabriel that I no longer feel comfortable with. I have since deleted the original piece, but I think parts of it stand alone very well as individual works, so I've edited them appropriately and present them to you. Please accept this offering of feelsy cyborg cowboy love.

It was storming at the Watchpoint.  Not hard enough to ground their air support, but it was a close thing, and Reyes shouted at Jesse from their transport’s loading dock.   _ ‘Get your ass over here, cowboy, we gotta get this bird in the air!  You coming or not?’ _

 

Once he went up, there was no coming back.  There was worry in Reyes’ tone, tense and unspoken, asking questions Jesse didn’t know how to answer.  One more round with Blackwatch, one more order to follow.

 

_ Have you been listening, Jesse? _

 

_ When I tell you to run, you run.  Can you do that for me? _

 

He didn’t know.

 

Jesse couldn’t move.  He was frozen in place, rain already soaking through his clothes, pouring down off the brim of his hat.  The lightning was vicious.  Violent, and bright.

 

He still couldn’t take his eyes of the green glow of Genji’s visor.  Memorizing the lines of it, committing every sharp edge and ethereal light and shining surface to his mind.  Jesse wanted to trace it with his fingers, as he had so many times before.

 

As he had traced Genji’s face once before.  

 

As he’d traced the heat of his throat, down his collarbones, until it joined the black artificial skin that spread out beneath his armor in so many places.  As he’d traced every bit of Genji.  Pale muscle, and silvery metal, and the soft synthetic flesh that ran between where his own ran out.  Followed his fingers with his mouth, because no matter what it was made of, all of it was Genji.

 

All of him was beautiful, even if he couldn’t see it.

 

Eyes enhanced with cybernetics, vision made superhuman with his visor, and still Genji was blind.

 

If only in the mirror.

 

Jesse wanted to reach out to him, but he already knew his touch would be shrugged off, and he wasn’t sure he could take it right then.  It had been hard enough to wake up that morning to an empty bed, sheets tangled but without a trace of warmth, Genji long gone.  Only then had Jesse realized what he’d been given the previous night.

 

A goodbye.  Hidden in heated touches and low moans and finally, finally getting his hands beneath Genji’s armor.  

 

Buried under the best thing that had ever happened to Jesse was a blade, and Genji was using it, expertly as always, to sever the fragile thing that had grown between them.  Genji was leaving, too.  Going back to Japan, to cut down the straggling leftovers of his family’s empire for no other reason than to make himself suffer.

 

To wallow in his misery.  To remind him of all he’d lost, useless pieces of himself left behind in places better consigned to his memories.

 

“You ain’t gotta do this, darlin’.  There ain’t nothin’ left there for you.”  Genji threw a glance over Jesse’s shoulder, where Reyes was waiting for him.

 

“Should I run away from the messes I’ve made as you are, Jesse McCree?  Leave others to clean up after me?”  Jesse flinched internally at the use of his last name, something Genji hadn’t done outside of training for ages.  Falling backwards, losing ground.  Jesse ran his tongue over his teeth, thumbs shoved behind his belt buckle, trying not to sigh.

 

Trying not to shake.

 

“It ain’t like that.  Come with me, Genji.” 

 

Genji scoffed at him, the sound coming through clearly, vaguely robotic but no less derisive.

 

“Not even you are foolish enough to think that I’d leave without finishing my duty.  No one else can do this for me.  I will not hand over my burdens to Overwatch and hope for the best.”  

 

_ “Vamanos, Jessito, no tenemos tiempo para tus pendejadas!”   _ Reyes’ tone was less harsh than his words.

 

_ Let’s go, Jesse, we don’t have time for your bullshit. _

 

It was as close to begging as he had ever heard him, the desperate cadence of it, and it twisted something jagged within Jesse.  If it came down to Reyes or Genji, Jessie would pick Genji every time.  But nothing could be as easy as that.  Not with Genji, and the maze he’d made of himself and his feelings, the puzzles Jesse had to work through to get past his walls.  Jessie took a step closer to him, voice caught up in his throat, breaking as he spoke.

 

“You take out the clan elders, then what?  Is it ever going to be enough?”

 

The things he said were not as important as those he did not.

 

_ Am I ever going to be enough? _

 

Genji stared for a long moment, made even longer in Jesse’s memories, dragging on for an eternity.  Long enough to fill up the hours in all his nightmares, to linger throughout the silence that he found himself in so often since then.  The glow of Genji’s visor shimmering through the storm, the flash of his shuriken as he worried them in and out of his knuckles.

 

Then he was vanishing into the shadows and out of sight, his silence answer enough.

 

Genji was gone, and he was alone in the storm.  

 

Then Jesse was gone after they hit the ground stateside, Reyes shoving him out the door of a seedy motel,  _ please Jesse, you have to go. _

 

_ I won’t let them take you, too. _

 

Then Overwatch was gone, and Jesse ran, and ran, and ran.

 

Even losing his arm all those months later wasn’t as painful as watching Genji disappear into the night.  Sometimes his arm ached, a phantom pain where it should have been, misery where there should have been only emptiness.

 

Sometimes his chest ached, where Genji should have been, and he drowned himself in whiskey and did his best to sleep.

 

………………………

  
  


Five years since Overwatch had been disbanded, and the recall came through.  Part of a sixth year, enough time for them to track down Jesse and get the message to him, a few more weeks for him to make his way to an extraction point without getting picked up on his bounty.  

 

He’d never been so happy to see Lena, eager to be filled in on everything, because the information he’d received had been vague and to the point.  Jesse had a lot of questions, but he didn’t need to ask the most important one.  Lena answered it before he could say a word, as soon as they were airborne and headed for Gibraltar.

 

Right after, _ ‘Not to be rude, but what the fuck happened to your arm, love?’ _

 

“Genji’s there,” she said, and Jesse smiled before he could stop it, pushing through the sting that lingered in his chest to let himself feel everything he’d done his best to lay aside.

 

“Genji.”  The name escaped of its own volition, refusing to be held back, hushed and fond and even if someone hadn’t known Jesse, his feelings would have been obvious.  

 

Subtle had never been Jesse’s strong suit, anyway.

 

“How’s he doin’?  Where’s he been all this time?”  Jesse hadn’t exactly been able to go on a manhunt while he’d been on the run, being the target of one himself, but he’d spent a lot of time lying awake at night and wondering where Genji was.  If Genji was safe, if he was alone.

 

If Genji ever, ever thought of him.

 

“He’s been in Nepal for the last couple years, with the omnic monks, the Shambali.  He’s… he’s better, Jesse.  He’s a lot better now.” _  Better now… _

 

Jesse didn’t know what that meant, exactly, but he supposed he’d find out soon enough.

 

“There a reason he ain’t here?”  Jesse was fairly sure if Genji wanted anything to do with him anymore, there would have been no stopping him from coming along.  He’d have been on the plane whether Winston wanted him there or not, clinging to the outside if he had to.  But Lena smiled wide, bouncing in her seat.

 

“He doesn’t know you’re coming!  I told him I was going to pick up a new agent, but when he asked who, I said it was no one important!”  Jesse huffed, grinning.

 

“No one important.  I thought we was friends, I see how ya are.”  Lena slapped at his arm and laughed.

 

“I just wanted it to be a surprise!  He’s been there for the last couple of months and all he’s done besides meditate with the omnic he dragged along from Nepal and train is ask about you.  ‘Have we found Jesse, do we know what country he’s in, when are we picking him up’, he’s driving Winston and Angela up the fucking wall, mate, I’m telling you.  And…”

 

Jesse stopped listening, caught up in thoughts of Genji.  The lilt of his voice, and how it might sound as he asked about Jesse, eager to find him, ready to chase him to ends of the earth.

 

“Tell me all ‘bout what I missed,” Jesse said, smiling, and Lena did.

 

……………………………….

 

When they landed there were a few agents there to greet them, all people Jesse was pleased to see, but no Genji in sight.  He hugged Angela tight and spun her in circles.  Staggered under Reinhardt’s heavy hand as he patted Jesse on the back.  Nodded at Winston, who was tapping away on the screen of a tablet.  

 

There were others filtering out to the landing pad, curious about who had arrived.  People he didn’t recognize, but had heard about from Lena.  A slip of a Korean girl that had to be Hana, their newest medic Lucio skating circles around her, his shoes lighting up a vivid green.  An omnic, hovering near the two of them, hands clasped together in front of him.  A short guy with a bow strapped on his back, dark hair pulled up on his head, gray at the temples.

 

Hanzo, probably, from the things Lena had told him.  Jesse stared for a moment, trying to find something familiar in the lines of his face, but then there was a flash of metal and streak of green light, and- 

 

_ Genji. _

 

Jesse almost fell over, taking a few stumbling steps backward to regain his balance with a sudden armful of cyborg.  Genji’s legs wrapped around his waist, his arms tight across Jesse’s shoulders, faceplate buried in his neck.  Jesse reached up, tugging affectionately at the ribbon on Genji’s armor, his heart suddenly too big for his chest and fluttering like a bird trying to take flight.

 

“Awww, darlin’.”  Genji’s voice came back at him, soft and pleading and barely there.

 

“Is it too late?”  Jesse stroked over the metal of Genji’s neck, his other hand coming down to support Genji’s thighs, pressing a kiss to the surface of his visor.

 

“It’s never too late for you, sweetheart.  I missed you somethin’ fierce.”

 

There was a noise then, robotic and yet so human it made Jesse ache inside.  He was pretty sure Genji was crying.

 

“I missed you, too.”

 

Everyone had backed off a bit, unsure of what to do, but Genji didn’t seem inclined to get down, and Jesse wasn’t about to force him.  He reached up and tipped his hat at the others, walking towards the Watchpoint proper.

 

“If you’d excuse me, I reckon I’d like to get some rest.”

 

They passed everyone without comment, including Hanzo, who was staring at Jesse with unmasked curiosity.  Genji spoke up, quiet but amused.

 

“Jesse, you can’t just run off, everyone-”

 

“Can  _ wait,  _ because it’s been just this side of six years since I’ve seen you.  I need to hold you for a bit, sugar, if that’s alright with you.”

 

Genji nodded, his hold on Jesse going tighter as they made their way inside.  Jesse would have to meet the new agents, get caught up on Overwatch’s situation, their missions, their resources.  But all that could come later.

 

Right then Genji was with him, warm in his arms, thrumming in a way that had nothing to do with his cybernetics.  

 

Holding onto Jesse like he was the whole fucking world, and Jesse wasn’t about to let anyone ruin that.

 

….

 

Moving on autopilot was second nature, instincts always keen and sharp even when his mind sometimes wasn’t.  Not that Jesse was stupid.  Stupid fucks didn’t last long in Deadlock.  Or Blackwatch.

 

Or on the run with ridiculously high bounties on their head, every law enforcement agency around gunning for them.

 

But following his gut as opposed to letting his thoughts catch up had kept Jesse alive a long, long time, and he wasn’t about to start questioning it.

 

If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.

 

So Jesse let his feet carry him and Genji forward without giving too much consideration to where he was going.  He was at the door to his old room a few minutes later, and it slid open automatically to allow them inside, soundless and swift.  Jesse pressed down on the touchpad next to the knob after they entered, and the door shut behind them.  The lights had come on, motion sensors detecting their presence, and Jesse frowned for a moment at the belongings scattered all around.  Winston wouldn’t have assigned someone else his old quarters, not knowing he was on his way back, and all the returning crew would have likely reclaimed the rooms they’d used before Overwatch had been disbanded.  

 

Then Jesse saw a few disembodied limbs, piles of armor in various colors, a set of swords displayed on the desk.  Katana, wakizashi, tanto, a pile of shuriken next to them.  That swollen sensation throbbed in Jesse’s lungs again, too much feeling all at once with nowhere to go.

 

Pieces of Genji everywhere.  

 

He’d come back to Gibraltar and crawled into Jesse’s old bed.

 

Jesse turned around and pressed Genji into the wall, face tucked into his throat, arms around his waist.  There was armor in some places places, the softer rubbery texture of his bodysuit in others.  No trace of skin anywhere right then, but Jesse didn’t care.  It was Genji, and after so long apart, that was more than enough.  The metal of Genji’s legs wrapped around Jesse’s hips, holding himself in place, and Jesse leaned harder against him, eyes closed.  His hat was gone, knocked out of place to land soft on the floor.

 

Something broke inside of Jesse and fell away, knots untying within him, a breath he’d been holding for the better part of a decade slipping out all at once.

 

There were no footsteps to listen for, no creeping sirens, no crashing alarms.  No cameras to avoid, counting the seconds as they panned left and right, catching their blind spots to slip past unnoticed.  

 

Jesse had spent the last five years on a hair trigger, never more than half asleep, adrenaline humming just beneath his skin.  Running, running, running, but there was nowhere to run to, no safe haven, no end in sight.  It wasn’t all thwarted train heists and vigilante justice.  Mostly Jesse wondered where he would sleep, what he would feed himself, where he could shower.

 

Abandoned homes, empty campgrounds, vacant office buildings.  Churches with locks that were too easy to pick, nothing to protect but some dusty bibles and the vague idea of a god Jesse wasn’t sure was real.  Moonlight shimmering through stained glass.  Grape juice in a cabinet next to boxes of crackers.

 

This is my body, this is my blood.

 

Beach houses in the middle of winter.  No electricity, cold eating under the doors, the crash of the waves a constant noise in the background.  The sun setting on the horizon, beauty he was stealing, something not meant for anyone’s eyes to see.  Something meant to play to an audience of none.  A desolate patch of sand, and the song the ocean sang when no one was there listening. 

 

Jesse lived in those in between spaces, everything out of context, until it felt like his very existence was wrong.  Not meant to be.

 

How many bullets had he dodged?  How many blades, how many bombs, how many final blows?

 

How many graves had fate dug for him, eager and grinning, only to come up empty handed?

 

Cheating death was exhausting, and Jesse was weary somewhere deeper than his bones.

 

Now…

 

Now there were four walls around him, warm air pumping through the vents, people milling around nearby who would take those bullets he’d dodged without hesitation.  There was a bathroom with hot water and soap and that stupid flowery shampoo Angela always stocked.  Food in the kitchen.  A bed with clean sheets and soft pillows and an actual blanket just a few steps away.

 

A bed that smelled like Genji.  Genji, who shifted against him, but wasn’t trying to get away.

 

Genji who’d leapt into his arms in front of everyone, no trace of shame or hesitation.

 

His throat was tight.  He found himself breathing hard, the sharp lines of Genji’s body unfamiliar pressed into his own after so long away, but Jesse was home again.  Genji’s fingers in his hair, Genji’s heels digging into his back.

 

“Are you okay, Jesse?”

 

Genji sounded as raw as Jesse felt, and he nodded, his arms tightening around Genji’s waist, mouth pressed into the armor over Genji’s throat.

 

“‘M fine.”  He wasn’t.  Or he was, but the feeling was so foreign and out of place that it seemed wrong.    “You…”  Jesse cleared his throat, trying to steady his voice.  “You stayin’ here with me, darlin’?”  

 

Genji didn’t answer right away.  He reached up, pressing the release on his visor and removing it.  It fell to the floor with a clanking sound, and Genji continued, taking off his helmet.  Jesse pulled back to look at him, wary, worried he’d spook.  

 

It had taken ages in Blackwatch together before Genji had even allowed Jesse to touch his armor, a privilege no one else could claim.  The only time anyone else got to touch Genji was in training, and then it was just the backs of their knuckles glancing off him as they were throwing a punch and ducking under a blade.

 

Not that very many people managed to land on Genji, anyway.  

 

Every brush of his hands on Genji’s armor, every time Genji sat close enough that their thighs pressed together, every casual bump of their shoulders as they walked…  Jesse had coveted each and every one back then, secreted them all away, kept them fresh and vivid in his memories.  

 

Then one day they came back from a rough mission, everyone bloody and half broken, a few of their brothers left behind on the battlefield.  Not enough of their bodies left to bring back, blown apart and burned alive.  Jesse could remember everything.  Reyes was singing quietly in Spanish, something Jesse had heard at funerals when he was young but couldn’t name.   _ No tiene cielo, te mira angustiada sin paz ni abrigo que la vio partir… _

 

Something about a bird without shelter in a storm.  A song about being lost, far away from home.

 

Jesse couldn’t even draw up the original in his mind anymore.  He’d heard Reyes sing it so many times by then, all that his memories would supply was the words in his commander’s voice.  Barely there, low and mournful and the only grief Gabriel ever allowed himself to show.

 

Jesse’s mouth tasted like copper and ashes.  His ears were ringing, spots swimming in his vision, gunpowder residue itchy on his skin.  He'd collapsed into a heap on the floor in the back of the transport, too buried in his own fog to get to a real seat.

 

Then Genji was there, falling into his lap, knees on either side of Jesse's stomach.  He'd pulled Jesse's head against his chest, faceplate nuzzling into Jesse's hair.

 

_ ‘I am with you, Jesse.  We are still here.’ _

 

Jesse’s arms went around him like he’d always wanted, wishing it had been another time, another place.  When they weren’t both sore and shaking and spattered with gore.  Still, he took what he could get, what Genji would give him.  Before he left Overwatch, he’d only ever seen Genji without his visor once, and considering what happened afterwards those memories were tainted with sadness.

 

Now Genji’s eyes were on his face, searching for something, hopeful and questioning.  Genji’s right hand slid down Jesse’s arm where it was wrapped around his waist, until it got to the edge of his prosthetic, prodding gently at the metal. 

 

“You lost your hand,” he said, his other palm laid over Jesse’s cheek.  Jesse leaned into it, eyes wanting to close, going half lidded.

 

“I lost a lot of things.”  His hand.  His friends, his home.

 

_ I lost myself. _

 

_ I lost you. _

 

Genji smiled, and it hit Jesse like a blow, punching all the air out of him better than any bullet to his chest plate.  He’d never seen him smile before, not like that.  Heard it in his voice, maybe, after Genji won a hard fight or pulled off some fancy moves in training, but it wasn’t the same.  

 

Something so sweet shouldn’t be capable of breaking Jesse apart, but there he was, broken.

 

In all the best ways.

 

Genji’s eyes were still beautiful.  The scars on his face still did nothing except make Jesse want to trace them with his fingertips, grateful Genji was alive to wear them.

 

“You’ve gotten some of them back now,” Genji said, thumb moving back and forth over Jesse’s lips.  Then Jesse smiled, shaking off all the lingering shadows in his head, letting himself live in the moment.  

 

Genji in his arms.  Genji taking off his helmet, like it was nothing.  As though he didn’t wear his armor like a shield even outside of battle, hiding soft emotion behind thick metal, tucking all his vulnerability away beneath bulletproof exoskin and hardened alloys.  Jesse pressed a chaste kiss to his thumb, heart soaring at the way it lit him up, the way he set Genji on fire.

 

“What happened to you out there?  You ain’t quite the same man who left me standin’ in the rain back then.”  Jesse didn’t mean for it to hurt, and the pain that flashed over Genji’s face had him holding Genji tighter, making soothing noises.  “Shhhh, hey, I ain’t complaining.  It’s just, it took me a long time to sweet talk you outta that helmet before so I could see that pretty face a yours, and even then you was only tryin’ to say sorry for what you were planning on doing.  Them monks didn’t do nothin’ to ya that you didn’t sign up for, did they?  I don’t wanna be takin’ advantage if you ain’t all here with me.”  The Shambali didn’t brainwash people, as far as Jesse knew, but he had to ask.  

 

One step forward wasn’t worth two steps back, not when it was Genji he was dancing with.  Genji smiled again, his hand leaving Jesse’s prosthetic to card through his hair instead.

 

“I came to terms with myself in Nepal.  I found balance.  I am at peace with who I was before, and who I am now.  I put my anger aside, and without it I am different.  Not a different man, but but a different version of myself, perhaps.”  His smile faltered, but he held Jesse’s gaze, uncertainty creeping into his voice.  “Is it too different?  I cannot regret the changes in myself, but I had hoped we could be…  what we once were to one another, except without all the burdens I forced myself to carry.”  Genji’s hands were warm on Jesse’s face then, fingers soft, inhuman but familiar.  

 

Jesse remembered what they felt like in his mouth. 

“I missed you, Jesse.”  Warmth bloomed in Jesse’s chest, Genji’s weight in his arms a precious thing, and he smiled back at him.

 

“You mighta said that already,”  Jesse said, and Genji shrugged, still unsure.

 

“Some things bear repeating.”

 

“Mmmm.  Guess they do.”  Jesse leaned in slow, easing his lips close to Genji’s, pausing with a breath of space left between them.  Waiting.  Wanting.  Asking.  “This okay, sugar?”

 

Genji’s mouth on his was a revelation.  A scar split his top lip open.  His entire bottom jaw was metal framed and skinned in a strip of black synthetic flesh, with an artificial bottom lip and bright, false teeth finishing his mouth.

 

But Genji’s mouth was perfect.  Genji’s kiss was perfect.

 

Genji was perfect, and Jesse melted into him with a breathy sound that should have been embarrassing, but wasn’t.  Jesse licked his way between Genji’s lips, moaning when they parted for him, hands trailing down from Genji’s waist to grip the lush swell of his ass.  There was a thin band of armor running across the place where his ass met his thighs, and Jesse teased at it with his fingertips as they kissed rough and messy, wondering if he’d be rushing things if he tried to get Genji out of all his metal.  He couldn’t be bothered to ask, not with the slick press of Genji’s tongue twisting against his own as he swallowed pretty little mewling noises that were more adorable than they had any right to be.  

 

The question was answered for him when something clattered to the floor behind him.  Jesse broke away from Genji to look over his shoulder and saw a pile of armor on the floor, the pieces that covered Genji’s hands and forearms.  He started to speak, only to be silenced by Genji’s mouth on his, brief but feverish.  When Genji spoke it was against Jesse’s lips, mumbling and gasping.

 

“Put me down.”

 

Jesse made a noise of complaint but obliged, setting Genji down on his feet and backing off reluctantly.  It wasn’t a decision he regretted.

 

Genji’s fingers deftly clicked open releases and unsnapped hidden latches, until his armor was all on the floor at his feet.  A half dozen or so separate parts, and then Genji reached behind himself and toyed with something at the top of his spine before writhing out of his exoskin and standing before Jesse bare.  As bare as he could get, anyway.  

 

There was skin just like Jesse’s own across Genji’s chest and abdomen and back.  His hips, his thighs, his throat.  Most of Genji’s torso was intact, if scarred, even if he had a mishmash of real and artificial organs underneath.

 

Genji’s legs were both prosthetic from just above the knee, solid black and sleek, integrated with his nerves and cybernetics until they functioned better than the real thing.  They were skinned in synthetics just like his jaw, soft on the surface but without the give of flesh underneath.  His right arm from the shoulder down, his left arm at the elbow, all Angela’s work.  Top notch, nothing like the shitty back alley piece soldered onto Jesse’s arm.  A metal spine ran down Genji’s back, all the way up to the base of his skull and the wild green strands there.  Jesse had seen all of it before, once.

 

Once.

 

Here Genji was again, somehow, all the fantasies Jesse tried to forget there for the taking.  Hard already, the one part of him that was almost entirely unmarred, tip slick with pearly fluid.  Hands fisted, brows furrowed.  Trembling.

 

Genji was trembling.

 

“You’re staring,” Genji said, trying to sound wry and failing.  Jesse’s hand darted out of its own volition, fingers threading into Genji’s messy locks.

 

“Your hair’s longer.”  It wasn’t.  Genji grinned, slapping his hand away and throwing himself down on Jesse’s bed.

 

On his back, thighs spread, cheeks flushed.  Eyes shining.

 

Scarred and put together with metal and wire and blades, Genji was the prettiest thing Jesse had ever seen.  He took himself in hand, biting his lip, stroking slow.

 

Jesse had never seen someone begging for it so hard without saying a word.  

 

But Genji always was gifted.

 

“You have an awful lot of clothes on there, cowboy.”

 

Not for long, he didn’t.  Jesse wrenched his serape off with one hand, unbuckling his belt with the other, toeing off his boots one at a time.  Genji laughed at him, loud and bright and beautiful.  Jesse threw him a glare, more fond than angry, kicking his boxers off.  

 

“Hush, now.  Like you weren’t throwin’ sparks tryna get out of that armor of yours.”

 

Everything was carelessly left on the floor, save Peacekeeper, which he laid gingerly on the bedside table just before he crawled on top of Genji with a sigh.  Skin on skin, Genji’s legs parted so Jesse could fit in between them, his arms wrapped around Jesse’s neck.   He kissed Genji’s cheeks, Genji’s jaw, Genji’s nose, speaking in between them, hands roving up and down over Genji’s body.

 

“Oh, you feel so good, sweetheart.  What did I do without ya all this time…”  

 

“Robbed trains, evidently,” Genji deadpanned, and Jesse bit his bottom lip and tugged.  It wasn’t much of a punishment.

 

Genji  _ moaned.   _ The sound went straight to Jesse’s cock, and he rutted down against Genji’s hips with a groan.

 

“Do that again, precious.  That sounded real nice.”  

 

Genji opened his mouth to retort, something smart assed if Jesse was going to guess, but he never got a chance to say anything.  Not with Jesse sucking at his throat, sinking his teeth in, kissing up bruises there.  One after another, until Genji’s neck was obscene with them, and Jesse kept going.  Down his collarbones, pausing to work at his nipples until they were peaked and swollen and sore.  Genji fisted his hands in Jesse’s hair, feet sliding uselessly against the sheets.  

 

“Jesse.  Jesse, please…” 

 

Jesse pulled off the hickey he was working into Genji’s hip, grinning up at him, eyes full of mischief.

 

“Please what?  Tell me what you need, darlin’.”  Genji arched up into him, cock flushed and aching, breath coming in desperate gasps.

 

Begging but petulant, words full of command, and Jesse didn’t doubt that Genji would take what he wanted if he didn’t get it fast enough.

 

“Everything.  I’ve waited a long time, come on, come-” 

 

Jesse took Genji into his mouth, palms splaying his thighs out wider, fingertips digging into them.  He sank his teeth into the pale skin there.  Licked him open, fucked Genji on his fingers until he was swearing and bossing Jesse around,  _ I said now, now Jesse, fuck… _

 

Jesse gave him what he asked for.  Everything, and then some more, twisting Genji up into knots and untying him, tugging him this way and that.  Genji took it all, and demanded more, until they finally collapsed together.  Filthy, and exhausted, tangled up together, Jesse’s cigarillo smoke spreading through the room.

 

At Jesse’s request, ‘Miss Athena’ turned the out the lights.

 

They had a lot to talk about.  Jesse had questions.  Genji too, probably.  They’d have to discuss the time that passed, the things they’d done, the places they’d been.  Blackwatch.  Nepal.

 

All that could wait.  Jesse needed a shower, and a meal, and some rest.

 

Mostly he needed to spend some more time like this, naked under blankets, pressed up against Genji, breathing the same air. 

 

Genji kissed his cheek, and toyed with his hair.  Scratched his fingers through Jesse’s beard.

 

Told him goodnight, and closed his eyes.  Jesse fell asleep to the sound of his breathing.  Home.

 

Jesse was home.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
